Nummer: 695413 Name: Israel
by SuperDuperGir
Summary: "That's all I am now; a number, everyone is. All the girls are called Sarah, and all the boys called Israel. I'm not human, I'm a number."  The diary of Kyle Broflovski as he's taken from his home in Germany, and put into a concentration camp. R&R.


_**Hey guys! Zim here! Uhm, the next Chapter of White Houses is almost finished; but in the meantime, here's my History project; I was supposed to write the Diary of a Jew in a Concentration Camp. So, I chose my favorite little Jew ever! Yay! Anyway, I got an A+ on this, so fuck you Anthony! Anyway, uhm, without further ado, Kyle's Diary.**_

__November 10th, 1938 [Kristallnacht]

Kyle

I woke up late last night, to the sound of my younger brother screaming; I sat up, in bed, the door to my bedroom was wide open, and his bed was empty.

"Ike?" I called out. I stood up and crossed the room, instantly feeling a temperature change, it was absolutely freezing. I pulled on some appropriate clothing, and walked down the stairs. All of the lights were on in the house, but there was no sign of my family. The front door was wide open, letting in cold and smoke. It was thick, the smoke; it floated gently in the air, seeping through the open door and (now) broken windows. The house itself was quiet, everyone was gone. The only recognizable noises were the sounds of screams, coming from outside. I stepped through the open doorway, the air was colder, the smoke even thicker; I was greeted by a wretched smell, one of natural gas and burning rubble. Many buildings were burning, some as close as a few hundred feet away, at a rapid pace.

'So this is what all the commotion is about.' I had thought, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

"Ike?" I called again, louder than the first time, but still received no response. I moved through the streets, and was faced with a sickening sight;

The local Synagogue - barely recognizable - was burning to the ground. The glass Star of David, that had once sat proudly on the roof, was lying in pieces on the ground. However, the fire wasn't the worst of it; soldiers and firemen lined the streets, casually walking past the burning temple - as if they didn't even notice it. They were completely oblivious. I could feel tears in my eyes; that was where I had my Bar Mitzvah, where Ike was supposed to hold his, where I would celebrate Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur with my family...

It was gone.

I looked around me, and finally took notice of what was going on; I could see people running from a distance, I could see soldiers beating women in the streets, I could see businesses and homes being set on fire, including my own.

I began to notice that none of the fires had been connected in anyway, there was no consistency, except for one thing; they were all Jewish buildings.

I fought the urge to believe that, that was the sole reason for these brutalities. I could come up with no other explanation. I turned out to be right, they did this purposefully, they did this in cold blood.

"Ike!" I cried, as loud as possible.

"Kyle!" I heard a small voice, and spun around to see Ike;

He stood, shaking. He was absolutely frightened. Tears slid down his cheeks, he had a small cut on his forehead, but that was all. He ran up to me, and hugged me, crying into my shirt. It was all so unrealistic, as I look back on it now, it seems like a dream.

"Heil Hitler!" I turned to see a man raise a large object, and bring it down onto the body of a woman.

That woman was my mother.

I grabbed Ike's hand, and we ran. I didn't know where I was going to take him, but I had to get out of there; I was the older child, (Although only eleven) and I had to keep watch over my baby brother. We ran through the streets, passing other burning buildings, and the bludgeoning that was going on in and around homes. I felt guilt, of forcing my brother to see that; but what else was I to do? We turned to the main part of town, to be stopped by a large truck in our path. A tall man stepped out in front of us,

"WO BIST DU HIN?" he screamed into my face, I couldn't speak, I was too shocked.

"um...Ich war.." I started, but he wouldn't hear it;

"ERHALTEN IM FAHRZEUG!" he screamed, I grabbed Ike's hand, and we got into the bed of the truck. No place was left to sit, for there were far too many people in the truck, but, I was grateful for those people, I did not want to be the adult in the situation. Especially when I saw the man who was sitting in the back…

"Vati!" I cried, we ran to my father, who was slouched over. He looked at me, and smiled. It was not a real smile though, I could see fear and sadness in his smile, and in his eyes. I knew just as well as he did what had happened to my mother, but we agreed, almost telepathically, not to tell Ike. I could hear the engine start, and we took off.

That was last night, this morning I woke up, still in the truck that was moving along the quiet roads, and that's where I am now. I'm writing this, Ike's asleep beside me, my father is also out, suffering from exhaustion. I feel bad about this notebook, having stole it off of the man that was in here before, but he died last night. My father is a doctor, he would know; we removed him from the truck, and I'm glad Ike hadn't been awake to see that.

November 11th, 1938

I sat in the bed of the truck, nearly paralyzed; I was afraid, my father was afraid, and Ike was afraid. It was mostly quiet throughout the next day and night, I wasn't sure where we were going, but we stopped frequently. Every few hours or so we would stop, and several more Jews were picked up, and crammed into the back. Ike now had to sit in my lap, in order to have a place to sit. I looked out, to see more Gestapo trucks rounding up other people; but they were different kinds of people… and they were going in a different direction…

"Vati, wohin gehen sie?" I asked my father where they were going, he shook his head.

"Ich weiss nicht." He said. He didn't know either. I watched intently as the SS forced people into the trucks; I saw a crippled man ripped from his wheel chair and thrown into the truck; like trash. I shuddered at the thought. Other people too, a woman I recognized to be a Gypsy was also forced into the truck, along with an old school teacher I recognized, who wasn't Jewish, but was a homosexual.

What is going on? Ike looked up at me, curious.

"Was?" he asked me, curious as to what was wrong. I shook my head.

"Nichts."

November 12th, 1938

Kyle

I awoke early this morning, to the sound of a soldier screaming.

"AUS! AUS!" he screamed, instructing us out of the truck bed. He led us, on foot to a small sector of town, that was closed off from the rest of civilization. They had gates surrounding this area of town, which were locked as soon as the soldier left. I honestly waited for death at that moment, I figured the Führer himself was going to emerge and shoot me personally, as crazy as it sounds; yes, my father told me that this was all part of the Führer's master plan, and that I needed to be very, very afraid.

This was not something I wanted to hear from an adult.

However, death did not come; in fact, soldiers did not come either. My father, brother, and I roamed the streets, amongst what seemed like thousands of other individuals; they all seemed to be looking for something, I figured we were too, but we just weren't sure what. Some people were sleeping on the streets, some were eating scraps of food, some were hiding. My father and I approached an old building, I didn't even recognize it to be a Synagogue. At least, not until my father told me. I thought, for a minute there, that we were going inside, but we didn't. My father turned, and led us to a small school building. The windows had been cracked, but not entirely shattered, and the structure was entirely intact, it was an ideal shelter. We walked inside, to be greeted with a few hundred people, who were all either sitting or lying, talking silently in German or Hebrew. We walked to a desolate corner, where my father sat down. His head hung low, he looked tired.

"Kyle, müssen Sie etwas zu essen zu finden werden wir hier verhungern..." he trailed off, instructing me to go find food of some sort, he said it was urgent; if we didn't find our own food, we'd starve to death. I exited the building, Ike on my tail, and we did just as instructed; we searched for food, but that is not what we found.

What we found was just pure horror. We found bodies of humans, being picked at by animals and other humans; we found living humans, slowly dying of starvation or disease; we found thousands upon thousands of people in general,

The one thing we did not find, however, was hope.

May 4th, 1943

Kyle

Late last night, at a time that was probably closer to morning than anything, they came. I awoke to the sounds of yelling, I stepped outside the building where Ike and I had slept. Herds of soldiers marched through the streets, urging people to get into the trucks they had just outside the gates. People ran from them, usually in the direction of the trucks, eager to get out of this hell. However, some remained behind; either too weak, or terrified to go with the soldiers. Some, even stayed behind with deceased, or deathly ill relatives, and were shot on site. I held onto my brother's hand, I'd lost both of my parents, I was not losing my baby brother. We got into the truck bed, and took off; Ike sat in my lap, where I held him tightly. I admit, I was terrified, for my life, and his. I was so incredibly alone, my mother had been killed on the night they call 'Kristallnacht', and my father became sickly and died last October. We remained in the truck for a short while, until we pulled up to a train station. We, amongst other people, were ushered out of the truck, and onto the platforms. They opened the boxcars, and we filed into the train.

That's where Ike and I stayed for the rest of the day. We were freezing and starving by the time night had rolled around, Ike had fallen asleep, whilst I was holding him. I was becoming more and more frightened the longer we were on the train; fear of the unknown, I guess. I didn't know what to expect, immediate death, beatings, public humiliation… I guess by that point you figure anything is possible with the Gestapo. I gently stroked the hair of my ten – year – old brother, I loved him more than anything, more than my friends, more than my parents even, simply because he was my responsibility. I kissed the top of his head, and leaned back against the wall, attempting to sleep before arriving at our destination.

My slumber did not seem to last long, for I awoke to pure darkness, and the sound of dogs barking, nay, the sound of _hundreds_ of dogs barking. The doors to the boxcar flew open;

"WILLKOMMEN BEI AUSCHWITZ!" yelled a soldier, I swear, the saying of that sentence was like a free – for – all, soldiers reached in and harshly yanked us off of the trains, I managed to land on my feet, but Ike did not. I picked him up, and we were callously ushered forward, to a group of SS soldiers. We stood in a single – file line, the man at the front of the line was instructing people to go to either the left, or the right. I was scared, but was sure not to show Ike. We were almost upon them, I began to fear I may be separated from Ike.

"Issac," I said to my brother, he looked up at me. "Ich liebe dich." I said, and kissed his forehead. He nodded, telling me he loved me aswell. We approached the man. He stared down at Ike, eyes filled with hatred.

"Dusche." He said. Shower. He shoved Ike to the left, he followed the others who were sent in that direction also. The man looked at me next, I fought the urge to cry, but instead focused on hope that I too would be sent to the shower. He shoved me in the right direction, with the other men, I then realized where I was going, and more importantly,

I knew where Ike was going.

"ISSAC!" I screamed after my brother. I knew exactly where he was going, he was going to the chamber. I'd heard rumors from others, while living in that secluded sector of town. I'd heard of friends going to the 'Showers' and not coming out.

"ISSAC! ISSAC!" I continued to yell his name, until I had been beaten down by a soldier.

What happened after that, I prefer not to talk about, but I will. We were taken to a separate shower, the men and I. The Gestapo soldiers instructed we strip down. They shaved our heads, and sent us into a different shower; shower with freezing water. They gave us each a pair of blue and white striped clothing, and our own little badge in the shape of the Star of David. Each badge had a name, all males now lived under the name 'Israel', and each female now under the name of 'Sarah'. My identity was gone, my family was gone, my dignity was gone.

_Sh'ma yisrael Adonai, el – o – hei – nu Adonai. E – chod ba – ruch shem c'vod. Mal – chu – tu l'-o-lam va-ed._

I feel the need to write down my daily prayer here, I feel as if I will forget it, and I can't. If I forget my prayer, my _language_, the Gestap_o _will have taken away the last bit of 'Me' that was left. I'm not allowed to speak Hebrew here, or celebrate any Jewish holidays. I'm not human here, here, I am mere livestock. At least, that is how it feels;

However, I will not falter, for I remember learning of this sort of thing in my Talmud class. I remember Job, who had everything; a home, a family, livestock even, and god took that all away from him. Job was tested, as am I, and I will not feel down, I will be brave.

I miss my brother.

The last thing before I go, I've heard stories and rumors, from the other inmates, of the Americans landing in France. We pray every day that the American army will storm in here and defeat the SS. We dream they will enter the gates of the camp and save us all, before it's too late.

March 17th, 1944

Kyle

I'm growing tired of the waiting; the waiting for escape, that is. I'm losing hope in the Americans, I'm still here, and I hate it. I mean, obviously I would hate it, but I hate it more knowing that I'm completely alone here, and that Ike died alone. I feel guilty, because I didn't do anything to stop them; even though I couldn't. I know now how he died, they gassed him. They gassed my baby brother. I was one of the unlucky few who was chosen to clear out the gas chambers. I had to make room for the next 'Batch', as they would say. I had to put bodies into the crematorium. I had to burn my people, as degrading as that was. I'm just thankful I didn't have to clear my brother's body. Sometimes I tend to wonder how I'll go. I don't think I'll get the gas, but I think I may become ill like my father, or possibly be shot like so many others. I wonder if I'll die alone, I'd rather die with many complete strangers, I think. Even though I was the oldest child in my family, I'm still a kid; I'm only sixteen, already planning for my own death, it's sad really. I can hear a soldier yelling now, several actually; it's coming closer. Why are they coming into our bunker? They're coming in, everyone is getting up. Where are we going? I wonder how we

_**Kyle Isaiah Broflovski**_

_**October 19**__**th**__**, 1927 – March 17**__**th**__**, 1944**_


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